


Dollmaker

by chaoticrandomness



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, POV Original Character, Post-Despair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 09:58:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2384114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticrandomness/pseuds/chaoticrandomness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which I attempt to write something for Togafuka week. Inspired by: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1319689</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dollmaker

The lady who moved across the street lures men to their deaths. Or at least that’s what the rumors say. My parents claim that she’s an old friend of theirs from high school, but that’s the only time they’ve ever talked about when they met and they have a lot of weird friends from that school they went to….

 

Most of my relatives are dead. Most of my parents’ friends are dead. Sometimes, people at school stare at me when they find out my name. My parents don’t talk about the past. I’ve seen their names in some of my history textbooks.

 

_Komaru Kirigiri isn’t that weird of a name…._

That’s not important. If there’s an old friend of my parents who now lives across the road from me, I have to meet her.

 

* * *

 

I have no idea why I decided attacking her door with my foot and a notepad was a good idea, but she’s never left her house and most people like that lock themselves away from the world….

 

_….and she’s never going to open the door, and you’ve probably scared her, or she actually is a serial killer…. or something._

_Stop panicking! Just ask her about your parents, write it all down, and leave._

She opens the door, muttering something about how I’m probably from the police and going to evict her. She’s wearing a long black dress and her brown hair is down to her knees. I’m about to say something when she gasps and screams my name.

 

“Komaru?!”

 

“Um…. yes, that’s my name…. but I’m named after my dad’s sister who died before I was born….” I say.

 

“.....right. How did I forget about you?!” she exclaims.

 

_….well, people fall out of contact? And how do you know who I am?!_

I’m about to say something, but she drags me through her door and into her living room, which is filled with fabric, glass, and wires.

 

“What are these for?” I ask.

 

“I’m making some dolls. They’re of my husband and best friend.” she says as I sit down on one of the only unoccupied chairs in the room.

 

_She’s married? I never saw her as the type of person who’d marry anyone…._

“Who are they? How did you know my parents? Who are you, exactly?” I ask.

 

“.....he’s dead….” she answers, handing me a photograph. It’s of a younger her in a wedding dress, holding the hand of a taller blond man with glasses. They’re both shyly smiling….

 

_….wow, he’s really handsome…._

“....people are always surprised when I tell them that I married him. They’re even more surprised when I say that he loved me.” she rambles, grabbing some blue paint. “Does this match his eyes?”

 

“I guess so…. anyways, how did you meet him?” I ask.

 

“I met him during high school. Your parents met there too, right?” she answers, painting the doll’s face.

 

“I guess…. they don’t really talk about it.” I say, turning the photograph over.

 

“.....so, you don’t know about mutual killing?” she asks me out of nowhere. “Pass me the black fabric.”

 

_Mutual killing?!_

_I’ve only read about it in textbooks…. I tried to ask my mom what exactly it was, but she told me to find out on my own…._

I hand her a roll of fabric, and she pulls out a pair of scissors from under her skirt…..

 

“Why do you keep scissors there?” I ask.

 

“....it’s an old habit. I used to be much worse about them….” she rambles.

 

“How?” I ask, even though I’m probably pressing into something she doesn’t want to talk about….

 

_“Why do you know so many dead people?”_

_“.....it’s a long story. You really do remind me of your mother….”_

She asks me for another roll of fabric, and I pass it to her, while she continues reminiscing about her husband.

 

“.....after he died, I…. pretty much shut myself off from the rest of the world…. and wrote and made dolls….” she rambles.

 

_So it’s a coping mechanism?_

 

I try to ask her something, but she's completely immersed in the doll and I don't want to distract her. 

* * *

 

“.....this is the fiftieth one I’ve made, and they still aren’t perfect…. would you like it?” she asks, handing the doll to me.

 

_Why didn’t I ask her anything?_

 

_There’s always next time....._

“Thanks…. by the way, what was his name?” I ask, hoping I won’t drop it on my way home.

 

“....his name was Byakuya Togami…. have you heard of him?” she answers, walking me to the door.

 

_….it sounds familiar…. I’ve seen it in some textbooks…._

“I think so…. and you are?” I ask, realizing that she’s never told me her name….

 

“....I’m Touko Fukawa…. he wanted me to take his last name, but I didn’t want to be laughed at…. maybe I should’ve done so? That way, he’d still be with me….” she rambles as I leave her house.

 

_I haven’t found out much about what I was looking for…. but I did find out about the woman who lives across the road and her dolls…._

_  
I’ll ask her about Dad’s sister next. Then, maybe we’ll get a bit closer…. I hope.  _


End file.
